From the Dust

 Prologue:

She knelt as the final blow hit her mind. Her cerebral nerves felt as if they were jolted by a punch. A mental attack. Sobbing harder than she had ever in her entire life, she could feel the warm water of the shower sting her left arm sharply. Water hitting a 24 hour-old wound felt like nothing compared to the full-fledged fall, down through an abyss so deep, she couldn’t comprehend it. She was shaking. Thoughts and pictures were arriving at speeds unimaginable, mentally knocking her down. Memories of that September, that January, that October… so long ago. The horrifying memories made her flinch as if someone had struck her in the face. Memories of the numbness while in the hospital the first and second time, and the events of the two hours before assaulted her.

How many times had it gotten to this? How much more of this silence, or lack thereof, must be borne?

            Her weapon of choice, a razor blade, gleamed under the florescent light.

One week before – October 28th, 6:45 am

“Girls! Kacey, Shae, time to get up! It’s breakfast time. Time to get up for the day. Breakfast’s in the lounge.” I opened my eyes to see a woman probably around thirty in red scrubs, her ponytail pulled up high. Way to be redundant, lady. I rustled around my twin-sized bed, lifting my head from the flattened pillow, acting like I was getting up and moving so she would leave.

Breakfast was most likely here by now, but I always had to get dressed and at least finger comb through my hair before making my appearance in the lounge. I wanted to set myself apart from the girls who just put on their socks and came tired-eyed to eat in their pajamas. Plus, it didn’t help that my pajamas had a huge hole going down from the crotch to mid-thigh.

Slipping my pink long-sleeved v-neck over my black bra (thank goodness it was a sports bra and looked like an undershirt; no tank tops allowed, even to wear under low-cut shirts), I took a look across the room. My roommate happened to be a big lump under the covers, apparently not hearing our wake-up call.

“Shae,” I said fairly loud. “Shae. Time to wake up. Shae.” I walked around my bed to her side of the room, standing right next to her back. “Shaaaaae.” This finally elicited a response, a groan from her. “It’s time for breakfast.” Another groan, but this time she turned around. She probably would have slept through breakfast; at least until whoever was doing obs walked in 15 minutes later and chastised her. Am I not my roommate’s keeper?

I walked to the shelves by the open door that housed my belongings, and pulled down my shoes. My purple and gray Nikes were my pride and joy, so having zip-ties in place of shoelaces slightly ruffled my feathers. I then began the trek down the hallway to the lounge.

Other girls were appearing from their rooms and into the hall, going the same direction I was. I passed the nurse’s station and quickly looked at the whiteboard that housed who was in what room and who was on the current shift. Hm. Cynthia’s not here today. I was a little disappointed, but relieved. When she was around, I always felt like I was walking on broken glass; afraid of her because she knew me more than any other person in the whole hospital.

I entered the lounge, starting the monotonous trek between both cafeteria tables to find which Styrofoam box contained my deliciousness-guaranteed breakfast. Aha. Kacey Williams. I found mine on the far table, near the corner. Most everyone was already there, so I felt like a latecomer as I sat down and opened my tray. A sleepy-eyed Kira was across from me, picking at her breakfast. My old roommate’s blonde-white hair with brown roots growing in fit her perfectly. She was a cute skater girl with a sweetheart face that matched her lovable personality. To her left, my roommate Shae slid onto the bench, and to her right was purple haired Serena, who was younger than most of us but we loved her the same.